


Yesterday, Tomorrow

by Jemannesimms



Category: Agents of SHIELD - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Lots of drama, a lil bit of sadness, a tad of murder mystery, let's see how this goes!, lots of pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 12:25:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13166877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jemannesimms/pseuds/Jemannesimms
Summary: Three times Fitz kissed Jemma Simmons. In three minutes he realized he loved her. For three  months he thought he had lost her. Now they have mere days to reunite and uncover the mystery surrounding an elusive woman, an arranged marriage, an attempted murder, and the many secrets of the strange guests at Limmeridge house.Loosely based on The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins.





	1. Chapter 1

Fitz jolted awake. He must’ve fallen asleep early on in the trip-he didn’t remember a thing, yet he was already entering the familiar Darby countryside. Exactly when he had dozed off was beyond him-and unfortunately, likely more obvious to his compartment-mates. He was slumped a bit in his seat-had probably been the whole time- and in a desperate attempt to redeem any part of himself in their eyes, he quickly straightened himself up. He could tell that it was too late-the couple across from him, possibly a husband and wife, weren’t staring directly at him, but the discomfort on their faces was woefully apparent.  
There was no use redeeming whatever graceless position he may have been in the past several hours, so he quietly resisted the urge to ask-politely- if he had snored and instead turned to the window. It had been just about 6 years since he had last seen this countryside, and while it’s familiarity struck him as if it had barely missed his heartbeat, it also felt strangely surreal and foreign, as if it had simultaneously been one minute and a million since he had first left his home.  
This disturbing thought was quickly interrupted by one of his compartment-mates; The man-husband-or such. “Tell me, good sir if you don’t mind, what brings you to Darby?” The question seemed out of place, likely an attempt to diffuse the awkwardness between the three that Fitz had meant to avoid.  
Fitz turned back to the couple, pushing down the effervescing voice inside him screaming from embarrassment. “Ah- I’m here on business,” he motioned to his briefcase, worn and nearly overflowing with papers; “I’ve been invited to assist in some research for a local biologist,” he finished. He immediately regretted including that part- While he didn’t think the work he’d be doing was a secret, Daisy had mentioned in her letter that it was of a sensitive nature. While the gentleman didn’t seem to take any note, which offered a slight relief to the young scientist, his travelling companion had noticeably shifted forward at the mention of his work, despite saying and doing naught else.  
“So, then, this is your first time here?” The man asked, seemingly completely unaware of his partner’s abrupt shift.  
“No, sir. I lived here for a few years quite awhile ago,” Fitz responded.  
“Ah,” the man gave a blindingly charming smile and offered Fitz a hand in greeting. “Welcome home, then. I’m Grant Ward, and this is my companion, the lovely Lady Kara Palamas.”  
Fitz shifted in his seat a bit, but promptly took the gentleman’s proffered hand.  
“Leopold Fitz. Pleased to meet you-the both of you,” he said, next reaching out to kiss the hand of the Lady, which cued another, slightly less tense silence from the trio. Looking out the window again, Fitz noticed that they were already slowing and approaching the Darby station, and he suddenly realized that he had no idea who would be there to take him to Limmeridge House. Daisy was the one who knew him, and had recommended him to Doctor Simmons for assistance, but would she be waiting for him at the station? Would it be the doctor herself? Or someone else entirely? He swallowed and let out a breath, hoping that it would be Daisy, so that he would not have to wander the station platform looking for his party like a stray dog begging for a bone.  
The train docked, and Fitz slipped on his wool coat and picked up his case.  
“May I assume you both are returning home as well?” he asked, in an attempt to present a polite farewell to his cabin mates and possibly further redeem himself in some way. In response, however, Ward laughed, a charismatic yet still somehow eerie laugh, one that offset Fitz’s nerves more than a bit. “I’m afraid not,” he said, “In fact, we’re here for a wedding”. The way he said those word were completely innocent, yet Fitz still felt an unfortunate sense of foreshadowing within them. Without another word, however, he wished the pair a fond farewell and a silent good riddance, and made his way off the train and down to the platform.  
Disembarking from the train, the issue that had idylled in Fitz’s mind on the train now found itself unfortunately present. The platform was crowded and thick with steam, and in the general haste, Fitz could barely make out any single face from the crowd, nonetheless one that could possibly be waiting for him. Anxiety rose in him like the steam from passing smokestacks, and movements and faces began to blur together as Fitz tried to find one thing familiar about his surroundings. He had lived here, and he knew this station. He knew so many people here, yet everything looked new and frightening. How long had it been since he’d seen Darby? 6 years? Possibly even more. Would he even recognize Daisy anymore? It had been nearly 4 years since he'd last seen her, and much about the both of them had changed.  
Daisy had since gone to live with her uncle; Radcliffe, whom Fitz had only met once before. He was the caretaker of Limmeridge House, a major monument and pride of the city. didn't belong to Radcliffe or Daisy, but instead had belonged to generations upon generations of the Simmons family, dating back to the age of sword-fights and dragons. The true current owner was Doctor Jemma Simmons, a lady sadly known more for her disinterest in her wealth and legacy than even her astonishing work in biology and chemistry, a fact that any scientist could lament upon.  
When Fitz had received the letter from Daisy, detailing the Doctor’s sudden need for a lab partner, he had jumped at the thought. While he had left Darby so long ago, and had done this job and that for many years since , his heart always longed for the practice of science- perhaps the one field he enjoyed wholeheartedly, and the one field he could not-through no fault of his own, mind you- break into. Doctor Simmons was quite young like himself, but she had already created a respected name for herself among many of England’s premiere scientists. His reply to Daisy was quick and enthusiastic, possibly even over-eager, which he now regretted, but also hoped may have possibly endeared him to the doctor.  
Five minutes had passed. It wasn’t a remarkable amount of time for a man to be standing on a station platform for, but Fitz nonetheless felt more and more exposed with every second passing in which he had neither a companion nor a clue. He began to move around, searching up to the marble walls of the crowded platform and even venturing to a few neighboring platforms, in hopes that, at the very least, he would look busy enough to be unjudged until he encountered a friend. This search, however, was utterly fruitless, and in growing embarrassed desperation, Fitz left the station bag in hand and began to dash down the stone steps to look around on the equally people-filled streets. However, within a second of rushing down the steps, his forward momentum was stopped suddenly by another person. His briefcase-already essentially splitting at the seams- burst open, spewing papers all over the steps. The person Fitz ran into was already walking away rapidly. With a slight sigh, Fitz started weaving his way across the steps, in a sad attempt to pick up as many papers as he could, even though he knew that most of their content was most likely doomed. Standing up, Fitz was faced with a face full of crisp, crumpled paper.  
“Thanks,” Fitz said quietly, a bit embarrassed, but graciously taking the bundle from the girl handing them out to him. She had been completely obscured from his view before, and now Fitz could see why; She was small- one could even venture to say tiny- in build, with long, slightly messy brown hair and dark eyes. She was about his age-maybe take a few years- and quite strangely dressed in a simple white dress that barely covered her ankles, and pale stockings, with shoes plainer still. This, combined with her gaunt, fallen face, gave the girl a haunting aura. He tried to keep his confusion at her appearance away from his face out of respect.  
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking meekly at Fitz, and (for whatever reason) looking like a fawn staring down the hunter’s bow. It seemed as if she meant to say more, but she said nothing, instead looking and waiting for a response from him, as it seemed.  
After a split second, Fitz realized this and blurted, as composedly as he could, “Oh! Uh- not a problem- I mean, no need to be sorry, it wasn’t your fault,” he stammered, looking behind him to try to indicate the man he ran into. The girl smiles, looking down, and laughs quietly.  
“No, not for that,” she says, barely audible among the loud streets. “Just that I read a few pages picking them up. I don’t know what a hydrolysis is, but I assume it’s private?”  
Both relief and more confusion rush through Fitz’s mind. “Ah, no, not private, actually just the term for the breakdown of complex molecules through addition of wa…” He trails off. The girl’s eyes are clearly devoid of any understanding. “Ah, oops.” he chuckles.  
“Are you a scientist?” she asks. Clearly, Fitz thinks, but he responds more mildly.  
“Er, yes.” She looks down again as he says this. Still looking down, she asks a question that takes him aback.  
“Are you going to Limmeridge house, then?” the question was even quieter than anything else she’d said, yet it stuck out to him like a sore thumb. Fitz didn’t know how to respond- Why does this girl know about Limmeridge? Was this coincidence?Was he overthinking things? Surely that was it- there likely aren't many places known for practicing science around here.  
“Yes, in fact I'm just waiting for someone to take me there now. You haven't happened to have seen anyone looking for a Leopold Fitz, have you?” He found a way to bring the conversation back to his original predicament, but the girl’s response remained woefully unhelpful.  
“Is that your name?,” she asked. Her voice was deeper in tone, but childlike in nature.  
“It is.”  
“I’m Tess.” She said, holding out a hand to shake as if they had just met and hadn't been talking for several minutes already.  
Fitz responded by shaking it.  
“Good luck, Leopold.” She said, smiling sadly and releasing his hand. “I hope Limmeridge treats you well.”  
“Thank you very much, ma’am.” Fitz said, adjusting his suitcase in his hand. She had completely ignored his question-the only one he needed answered-and now she was wishing him farewell? “I’d stay longer, but I'm afraid I have to find my friend.” The two slowly, strangely parted, leaving Fitz no better than before and with a bizzare feeling- Darby may have changed a bit while he was gone.  
Fitz regained his composure and, after combing the outside of the station for either his ride or any more of his stray notes, he entered the building once more.  
Within minutes of going back inside, he spotted a familiar face-  
“Daisy!” he called. She turned her head. With long, dark hair and deep brown eyes, she was just as beautiful as the day they first met more than seven years ago, but while most men would see her as a prospect, he’d never seen her as anything but a little sister.  
“There you are!” She said, embracing him. “God, I thought you’d tried to walk to Limmeridge.”  
“Not this time,” He laughed. Immediately their rapport picked up, quick and effortless, despite the time it had been since their last meeting.  
“Well now we have absolutely no time before you were asked to get there, so maybe you should’ve.” She jabbed. “Come on, Fitz, keep up,” she said, reaching for Fitz’s bag. He sheepishly handed it over, inwardly begging it didn’t pop open again. They made their way out of the building. As he was descending the front stairs, Fitz couldn’t help but look around for a sign of the mysterious girl, but even in the few minutes he had been inside, she had vanished without a trace.


	2. Doctor Simmons

The Carriage clunked its way to Limmeridge house, approaching it quickly. Fitz had only ever seen it from about this distance, so as it became closer and more in detail, he tried to keep himself from visibly displaying his awe. Limmeridge, while not included with any rank or title, had a reputation for prestige and splendor that preceded it. 

The Simmons family had been the caretakers of both it and its vast fortune for decades, and while Fitz had known little about Doctor Simmons even before he had first left Darby, but he had always wondered; why would a proven, intelligent lady let her estate be ruled by someone other than herself? He wondered if he’d ever be able to ask her. While Daisy had nothing but praise to speak of her both in her letters and on the entire ride out to Limmeridge, and he trusted her word, taking this job had been very spur-of-the-moment-a type of choice that was foreign to him, meaning that his mind was solely filled with ways that this could somehow go poorly for him. 

They approached the front of the house, rolling slowly until they reached stop. Daisy had been jovial most of the way there, but in the minutes Fitz had been lost in thought she had adopted a concerned expression. Fitz realized she was looking out the window, and whatever she saw was the cause of her frown, however sitting on the opposite side of the car, he couldn’t see what she was upset about. The driver opened the door, and Daisy descended, running over to the front of the house. 

Nonchalantly, as if nothing was happening at all, the driver handed Fitz his luggage and he too left the carriage. Looking to the house, he almost immediately saw what Daisy was worried about; a man who he recognized as being Radcliffe stood outside in conversation with a policeman.  


So as not to seem like he was being nosy, Fitz approached the trio casually, and stood within earshot, but somewhat outside of their established circle. 

“When did you say it happened?” Like Fitz, Radcliffe was Scottish through and through, but his accent was much thicker, somehow not at all worn away by years surrounded by Brits. 

“Two days ago,” the policeman responded. “It wasn't particularly close to hear, but she’s supposedly very crafty, so we aren't taking any chances.”  
“A woman escapes from a madhouse and yet is somehow clever enough to make it all the way to Darby?” Daisy asks.  
“As I said, she likely didn't; this is only for caution’s sake,” The officer responded. “I have to be on my way now, but please; contact us if you see or hear any sign of her.” 

With this, the policeman left and Radcliffe, shaking his head, went inside without any notice of Fitz’s arrival. Daisy, conversely, immediately walked over to Fitz and took his arm, guiding him inside. 

He felt the need to ask her who exactly the police were looking for, but thought it might be impolite, so he kept his mouth shut. Luckily, as the pair walked to the stone steps and wide open doors of Limmeridge house, Daisy filled him in without his having to ask.  


“Apparently, a young woman has escaped from a sanatorium a few miles away, and they think she could've made it to Limmeridge. I feel bad for her, actually. She’s probably scared, and they’re making a lot out of finding her and sending her back, when she’s probably not even dangerous to begin with.” She finished the story as the two entered the house's foyer, from where Radcliffe had suddenly disappeared.  


There was a lot of questions that naturally followed from this, but for some reason, Fitz could only think of the strange girl he had met at the train station.  


“What was she wearing when she disappeared?” The question came out his mouth barely consciously, and he regretted it the moment it did.  


“Sorry, what?” Daisy laughed. “How would I know?”  


“Right. Sorry.” He blushed a tad, embarrassed, however there wasn't time for any explanation or rebuttal, as another voice suddenly echoed through the room.  


“Leopold Fitz?”  


Fitz looked up to the source of the sound, and saw-to his shock, as if he had summoned her- the girl from the train station, walking down the stairs. Her hair was now nicely styled, though coming a bit undone. She was wearing a blue dress, understated in design but clearly of nicer quality. She descended the stairs with the most confidence and grace Fitz had ever seen in either a man or woman before, yet she didn't seem at all strict or proper at all. She was a world away from the girl he had met, yet from a distance he could've sworn she was exactly the same.  


As she got off the staircase and walked to greet him, the closer she came to him the more and more he realized that her demeanor wasn't the only difference from the girl at the station; no, this girl had brown eyes, and a slightly different face shape. Her skin tone was a shade or two lighter, and she was maybe a few inches taller. Tess had been like a mouse, small and timid, but this girl- was this Doctor Simmons?- seemed to float, like a bird. This wasn't the girl he had met earlier, or any he had ever met at all for that matter, yet the impression she had left on him was already indelible. The way she walked to him was as if she was totally carefree, but the hints of bags under her eyes and weariness in her smile suggested otherwise. She reached out a hand for him to shake, and he took it. Her hand was remarkably cold, which surprised him, since it so contrasted her warm smile. 

“I'm Jemma Simmons,” she said, letting his hand go. “Doctor Simmons, but no need to call me that if you don't want to.” 

Fitz paused, taking her in. He felt as if her shaking his hand had knocked him off of his feet; metaphorically, but also possibly physically. He must've been staring awestruck for a bit too long, as Dr. Simmons raised her eyebrows in polite expectation and knocked him out of his trance.

“Right! Sorry. Leopold Fitz” Out of instinct he reached his hand out to shake, but in the blunt realization that they had already done that, he quickly retracted, rubbing his palm against his pants as if it were suddenly sore. He looked around anxiously, already desperate to forget the awkwardness he had just caused. He saw Daisy out of the corner of his eye, on the verge of giggling, but not letting herself break. 

Doctor Simmons -God bless- continued as if nothing had happened. “Thank you so much for coming here on short notice,” she said. “Daisy has spoken highly of both you and your work.” 

“The pleasure is mine, Doctor.” Fitz responded. The words were a little too formal for the conversation ; they didn't feel right coming out of his mouth, but he was trying to be as gentlemanlike as he could be.

“I suppose I could show you around the house, but I’m actually in the middle of an important experiment, so I think it's best if we just get started, if that's alright.” Simmons said. 

“Right, good.” Fitz had no issue with this. If he’d be living at Limmeridge for the next several months then he’d have plenty of time to explore. Besides, the property seemed expansive enough that a tour would likely take at least a few hours, and he knew he could only hear so much about the history of the house before he would be internally begging to get his hands on a microscope anyway. 

“The lab’s this way”, Simmons said, first indicating then starting towards a hall to their left. 

“I’ll bring your luggage up to your room,” Daisy followed, taking his bulging suitcase with one hand and then momentarily placing a comforting hand on Fitz’s shoulder with the other. He was sure there must've been servants to take his things up for her, but just as a rule, he had learned to not question Daisy’s actions.  
As she walked upstairs, however, a few of his papers fell out of the bag without her notice, floating down the staircase. Torn between following the quickly disappearing Doctor to the lab and saving his notes, he tried to collect as many as he quickly could, messily folding them and stuffing them into his coat pockets, then running to catch up with Simmons. 

What a mess I’ve made already, he thought. And what an entrance she did. He only prayed that their partnership would go on much more smoothly from there. 

Knowing himself, it probably wouldn't.


	3. Chapter 3

Fitz didn’t know what to do. He was sitting in the dark laboratory, alone. Dr Simmons- _Jemma_ \- had asked to meet him here at half past midnight; yet it was nearly one, and Fitz had seen no sign of life anywhere. It was even colder here than normal, and he was uncomfortably self-aware. He wasn’t really afraid of being caught… or was he? Should he be? 

What, exactly, had Jemma called him downstairs to do? He could only assume it was something utterly important, or at least important enough to mandate a secretive meeting in a dark, cold laboratory. Was she trying to make sure none of their new guests could overhear them? What, if anything, was so confidential that they had to meet at such a late hour? And dammit- why was it so cold?  
_She wasn’t coming,_ he told himself. _Why isn’t she coming?_  
It doesn’t matter. _She’s not coming…_  
_So why was he not leaving?_ What makes him stay- why does he want to?  
Is it really to feed his curiosity? Or was it because she had asked? Was it all for his own sake, or was something inside him willing-not just willing, excited- to wait for her?  
He knew the answer.  


__

Yes, she’s technically his employer. Not technically, no, in fact, she _is_ his employer. But even after only a month, he trusted her. More than even Daisy. More than some of the people he’d known his whole life.  
_More than he should...Why?_ There was nothing special about her. Of course, she was exceptional in her field, and very intelligent, but-  


The door creaks.


	4. Dinner

**One month earlier...**

Fitz stood up and took a breath. His first time in the lab had been short and uneventful, with Doctor Simmons showing him around a bit and demonstrating her research, followed by a few tests and experiments, all bio-based and somewhat out of Fitz’s wheelhouse. Not much to make a good first impression with. 

“Tomorrow, your real work will begin,” She had said, just before dismissing him to clean up for dinner, almost an hour ago now. From what he knew, his ‘real work’ had to do with her research into the cause and cure for a certain disease, although from what he had seen, Fitz knew next to nothing about its identity. She had explained to him, however, that the reason she had hired an assistant was because she was already buried in work, and was now faced with having to build a complicated piece of equipment (which she once again only vaguely explained the purpose of), something she was ‘absolutely useless for’, in her own words. While Fitz was sure he’d be able to do whatever she needed him for, he still felt it would've been nice if he had learned the extent of his job in more detail. 

Instead, he had mostly spent the afternoon just watching her flitting about the lab, and occasionally handing her an instrument or taking down a note for her. His first comparison of her to a bird was proving more and more accurate; he couldn't help but watch her in awe as she seemingly flew from place to place, muttering bacterial names, jotting down observations in barely readable scrawl, and constantly brushing one stray piece of hair behind her ear, only for it to fall in front of her face again almost as soon as she did. Fitz would've thought it was impossible to see a scientist as consumed by their work as she was, and he could easily picture her living her whole life exactly like this, flying about, staying up late into the night until the sun began to rise and all her candles were pools of wax. 

The clock chimed. It was half past five, and the last thing Doctor Simmons told him before he had gone up to his room was that dinner was to be served at three-quarters-past exactly, and not to be late to it, although both from the way it was formed, and what he knew about the both of them, this request was presumably for Radcliffe’s sake, and not her own.

He descended the stairs, cautiously making his way to the dining room (he had, a bit to his embarrassment, earlier pestered the valet who had showed him to his room by asking for directions there and several other important destinations in the house). When he arrived, Daisy and Radcliffe were already sitting down. Radcliffe was wearing his glasses on his nose and rifling through a small stack of papers, and Daisy was fiddling with a fruit knife in front of her. Neither acknowledged him until after he had sat down, when Daisy, sitting across from him and still idly turning the knife in her hands, gave him a sly smile. Fitz had assumed that dinners at Limmeridge would’ve been much more formal than the scene that laid before him now, but despite the shock, it still calmed his nerves a bit, seeing that he hadn’t been prepared for a formal dinner anyway- he hadn’t even changed out of the old wool jacket he had arrived in. 

Just then, Simmons entered the room. Though uncalled for, Fitz instinctually stood up to politely acknowledge her entrance. Seeing this, Daisy, amused, dropped her silverware and copied him. Radcliffe continued to sit, although as Simmons sat down he shoved aside his papers, removed his glasses for a moment and nodded to her, asking her unattentively how she was today, to which she responded with an equally reserved answer. Fitz noticed that she had changed her clothes, and that she now wore a white blouse and skirt, somehow even simpler than the dress she had worn earlier, and something that Fitz took note of mostly only because the color made her look even more like Tess, the girl from the train station. 

“So, Radcliffe, how was your day?” Simmons’ posed the question with a polite manner but an undercurrent of falseness. 

“Oh, you know, a bit of this, a bit of that. Important things, I highly doubt you’d understand”. He condescended. Doctor Simmons raised an eyebrow slightly. Daisy looked down at her plate and softly cleared her throat. Fitz continued to sit, completely still and quiet, observing the unfolding scene.

Two servants entered the room, holding a platter apiece, and began presenting them to the four seated, beginning with Doctor Simmons. He wouldn’t have been able to guess beforehand, but now it felt as if tensions were as taut as a string. Even though almost nothing had transpired, it already felt as if Simmons and Radcliffe were absolutely at arms with the other. They all took their food, beginning to eat in near silence. 

Fitz caught Daisy’s eye. Her empathetic look back told him this was likely the regular mood at meals there. Brilliant, bloody fantastic. 

Aimlessly cutting his fish, (the best he knew how, although he now began to realize that it didn't matter much), Fitz waged a small battle in himself whether or not he should speak. The bitter clanking of fork and knife again porcelain, without the buffer of conversation, was nothing short of nerve-wracking. He nearly let himself comment on something demure-the weather, the train over; but he let the words go with a soft grunt. Doctor Simmons, like Radcliffe, had barely acknowledged him before, but with this noise (slight though Fitz could've sworn it was) she seemingly remembered his presence and locked her focus solely onto him. 

“So, Fitz, what do you think of the work so far? I hope I haven't bored you to death yet,” she said with a restrained laugh.

He almost gave a polite, short reply whereabouts “Of course not”, but when he looked up at her face, it shocked him to see very plainly that she was practically pleading with him for a more conversational response. Her eyebrows were raised in expectation, but her eyes clearly ached for some relief from the silence as well. He supposed it made sense; if this was the only substantial time of the day that she had for socialization, she likely didn't have much in that regard. 

“It's been a pleasure, Doctor…” he began, “...eh-not to sound rude but I do want to know; what is my purpose, exactly? I've heard the basic idea of it but I still am wondering exactly what it is I'm-well-doing here”. He said this as nicely as he possibly could, but still braced for a possible negative response. Daisy gave him a raised eyebrow and even Radcliffe was looking at him now, condescendingly down from his glasses, and Fitz wondered if he had somehow broken some kind of unspoken rule about never questioning the hostess that was strictly enforced in the household. Unlikely, his mind reasoned, but his heart still let the option weigh on him. 

Luckily, Simmons seemed unfazed by the possible subordinate manner of the question and in fact responded with clear excitement, during which Fitz realized how little she must get to talk specifically about her work. 

“Well, I've been working with this certain species of bacteria for a while-(a complicated bacteria name; it sounded vaguely familiar but as soon as she had finished saying its name, it had already escaped Fitz's mind)- but the bloody things die so quickly. I've had a generous colleague donate more when he could, but they’re still completely wiped away by the next month. So I bought an incubator to help me lift the population back to a steady state, but of course it comes in bits. So I'm trying to put this damne-” at this, Radcliffe coughs pointedly, bringing Simmons to a pause (although only long enough to let her sigh in seeming exasperation). Fitz found it curious that Radcliffe, who was technically Jemma’s employee same as himself, seemingly had any kind of sway over her. 

“I'm spending weeks trying to put this (‘damned’, she mouths) machine together, and while I am, my bacteria are still dying, rapidly. So Daisy convinced me to bring in someone to put together the incubator. And if I'm being honest, it will be great to have an extra pair of hands around the lab. So... that's what you're doing.” This last sentence she said a hint quieter than all the others. 

“...ah.” Was all that Fitz could say. Radcliffe was staring, now, and thought he would've enjoyed continuing his conversation with Simmons, it no longer felt right. The rest of the dinner passed in relative silence, but when everyone was leaving the room, he managed to catch her eye and give a sheepish, sympathetic smile, which she gladly returned.


End file.
